Wake me

5: Discussions over Discs

The leaves crunched beneath my boots as I breathed in the frosty morning air. My nose was red and sore from the long night of sniffing and sobbing, and my eyes and cheeks still very stinging as I walked through the cold streets of town. My jacket was buttoned up all the way to my chin, and my ears felt cold despite the fact I wore a beanie pulled over them. I was heading to the music store, although I did not have any change in my pockets. I trudged on, trying to not think about the argument of last night. I pushed it out of my mind, but it kept swimming back towards my center focus. Finally, I reached the much loved store and shoved my way inside passed the usual shelves and display cases to the back of the store, and plonked myself down next to the record player which was playing an old Beatles song sort of dustily. I took the record out and replaced it with a slower, thoughtful one and lay my head down on the creaking table. I shut my eyes and breathed in the smell of dust, plastic and old papers while allowing the music to follow through my ears and distract me from reality. I lay there for what felt like hours until a kind voice interrupted me from my daydream. "Hello, dear." I stuck my head up to see Mister Robin smiling cheerfully down at me.
"Oh, good morning sir." I greeted dismally.
"Oh dear, what has happened? It is not normally you come here so early, and listen to such sad music like this. Taken up a taste in the blues, have you?" He asked curiously, glancing at the dull cover that sat on the table alongside me.
"It is a long story," I sighed sadly, "and the music seems to... Fit? I don't know, it makes things seem easier."
"I completely understand! Hold on..." He hurried back into his office when the phone rang, and brought a box of shortbread biscuits and some tea. The phone still rung in a high trill.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" I asked, eyeing out his office door. He batted a hand, "Eh."
I chuckled, and thanked him for the tea. It was very sweet, and so was the sugar coated shortbread from the bakery down the street. "Now," he clapped his hands together, "Tell me what on earth is the matter!"
"Mister Robin," I said, "honestly, it is okay. I don't want to bother-"
"Do you think I have anything else to do? Look at this shop! There is nothing to do." He sighed.
"It's a long story." I shrugged. "I don't know what to start."
"Start from the beginning-" he said, "I have lots of time!" He turned off his watch and sat there eagerly, as if my story was something to be excited about. I began from the beginning, and painfully explained the whole story to him, ignoring the sounds and flashes that ran through my mind like an old tape. I flinched every now and then as the screaming of car tires rode passed, or the sound of a yell for help, or the sound of slow, rattled breathing. I went on and on, pouring out my feelings and emotions and thoughts. I told him my worries, about my argument, about what medicine I take and why I dropped out of college. I told him as much as I could put into words.
"My dear," he said finally, "I am very sorry, but I doubt you want pity." I shook my head, and was shocked to realize tears were streaming down my face. I wiped them quickly, feeling shy and embarrassed.
"Now now," he hushed, "nothing to be ashamed of! Crying is good. But now, what an awful thing. To be honest, maybe going to college is good for you. It might not seem so, or it maybe won't seem so later on, but in the long run I think it is best. I am sorry you lost your sister, I cannot imagine how that feels. Being the only child, I didn't know what having a sibling was like. And for losing a best friend- I know how painful that is! I lost mine during the war, you know. He got shot and died of infection. And losing a loved one- I know how that works, dear. I lost one due to cancer. I can't imagine, however, how horrible it must be seeing them in a hospital bed not being able to talk or think or live in the present and being stuck on a replay playlist of dreams and thoughts. I'm sorry, Grace." He stood up, and I thought he was going to walk away, but he embraced me in a hearty, warm hug. He smelt of cloves and olives and other warm things, and I hugged him back gratefully. He patted my back and let go, and said, "But you must do what your heart says!"
"Thank you Mister Robin," I smiled through salty tears and dried lips, "For everything. And the shortbread."
"It is my pleasure! You are always welcome here, m'dear! And take the shortbread home and have some whenever you feel down."
"No, it's okay, it's yours Mister Robin." I said thankfully, handing him the cardboard box.
"Please, I have about thirty boxes piled up in my kitchen cupboards. Take it, a gift!" He laughed. I thanked him, and picked up the box of shortbread along with another record he had handed me too, free of charge.

When I left the shop, I felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. But then, when I turned the corner and my house was in view, the weight came crashing back down.